Tag: Smiley Face

I’m a musical gal, from my wee days taking piano and drum lessons, to my current stint in a community choir. Listening to music is what going to church is for some, so I celebrate with Sunday Song. Each week, I post a song that’s been my earworm for the week or something that reflects what’s happening in my world along with a wee story why.

Today is my birthday. I have always loved my birthday and that is totally my father’s fault. He made awesome cakes and made sure that my day was special, even though my birthday was also HIS birthday. That’s right: today is also the day my father was born. Continue reading “Happy Birthday”→

One of my favorite things about the Interwebs is that it connects me to people I’d probably never meet otherwise. Case in point: my writer friend Beaton from Zimbabwe. After meeting on each other’s blogs, and his amazement that I still send snail mail to people, we exchanged postcards. I sent one to him late in 2015 (it’s been so long, I don’t remember exactly when). He returned in kind, quickly. Continue reading “Snail’s mail”→

My pink princess sits on my desk, lonely, probably thinking it’s unloved — its buttons not pushed for some time, its receiver not cradled and held. Voices in the vastness don’t come through its speaker. Voices in the vastness — there’s something about the way a person’s voice sounds through a real phone that just isn’t duplicated with texting, or talking on mobiles that often sound like the other person’s at the bottom of a well. It’s like when you hear a song you love on the radio. It sounds different, doesn’t it? I can’t explain why (science!).

Most people prefer texting (and if you’re one of them and you’ve told me (several times) and you’re reading this, you don’t have to comment or send me an email explaining this again — I get it). But I don’t text. Yes, you read that right. I used to, until I got caught in a teen texting 7th circle of hell. Those crazy kids texted the wrong number and no matter how much I tried to convince them I wasn’t Jim, they didn’t believe me. (Is this the big joke for kids today? Prank text people and say you’re not who you really are via emojis and abbreviated “words”?) After that, I had the phone company block texting for a bit. Being sans texts was so enjoyable that I realized I preferred that, so I blocked texting for good.

Texting’s great for short bits, like “Where are you? I’m here,” especially with my mom, for whom answering that simple question would still be a 15-minute phone call (minimum). But with texting, I find there’s no “hello.” And my biggest pet peeve: how do you know when you’re done? Ping, ping, ping…. … crickets. Where did you go? I hate IMing for the same reason. Back in the day, people used to say “brb” (be right back) and “ttyl” (talk to you later). More recently, people IM, we chat, a moment of silence arrives… … then they’re just gone. Signed out. Offline. With nary a goodbye.

I’m not a Luddite. I love technology. It’s how we can spend this particular time together. But does loving tech mean I have to toss out the princess phone and the sound of your voice? Why can’t I have it all?

There’s something about hearing the way a person says certain words or the way their voice changes when they talk about this or that. Even with the best emoji (and I’m using that phrase with VATS of salt), you can’t get across what comes out naturally through phrasing and inflection. Inflection! God, how I miss inflection! And ever since the beginning, I’ve prefered an actual belly laugh to (the often faked) LOL. As someone who enjoys making people laugh, typed letters just don’t cut it. SRSLY.

Talking on the phone, writing and sending handwritten notes and cards, paper invitations — I know I’m rare (and weird), but I like those things and I always will. And I’ll never understand why with many people, it has to be one or the other.

The secret is just to find others who think like me (needle in a haystack!) so Princess can have fun again and not become a relic of a time gone by. She still has a purpose. And she’s pretty. And she brings me closer than any shapes on a screen can to those I really want to hear from.

“I love your voice…” right in my ear, as if sitting right next to me. *sigh* Even if Siri said those texted words, it’s just not the same…

Pens down. Time stopped. To the window! Pull the open blind up higher. Stand for several minutes taking in the momentary brightness knowing it will disappear again. Notice the shadows streaking across the lawn, through the bare branches of the trees.

Soon, it’s gone.

Back to the desk. Pick up the pen. Write a note. Return to typing. Smiling because I caught the fleeting moment while it lasted.

On this Christmas Eve, I’m enjoying treats and fun times with family peeps (Trump 16! *bites tongue*). Instead of Random Thoughts Thursday-ing today, I’m showcasing a holiday moment! If you’re Christmas-ing, I hope it’s full of moments like the one I wrote about earlier this month as part of Solveig Werner’s Advent Calendar post series. For your enjoyment, and ICYMI, I’m posting it here. Enjoy!

Ever have a Christmas ugly cry? I have, and, yay for me, it was caught on camera!

Picture it: sometime in the 80s. Cabbage Patch Kids are all the rage, and that means they can’t be found anywhere! Once a toy store got them in stock, they were gone in mere minutes! The news of their arrival spread, not like wildfire as this was pre-Internet. But quickly, by word of mouth (oh, how I miss old school things sometimes…).

I didn’t care. I was little and I wanted that doll! They were soooooo cute! And everybody had one! And… and… I don’t understand supply and demand. I’m a kid!

My father apparently took that to heart. I’m not sure how it all came about, but his sister the seamstress came across a pattern… for a CABBAGE PATCH KID! So she made one for him and my mom to give me that Christmas. It wasn’t the official one, but it was as close as they could get. Nothing would stop them from getting me what I wanted!

Christmas morning. I know there’s no kid from the Patch in my boxes. I dutifully and, yes, still happily, open my presents, happy to have received them at all whilst learning to live with true disappointment. Oh, the angst of being a girl!

Then! When I thought all the unwrapping was done, my dad pulls out this big box and hints that maybe it’s for me and I just didn’t see it. Another present? What could it be?

I shook it – that’s required.

I felt around the outside – just felt like a box.

With no idea what it could be, I started tearing off the wrapping. A big brown container with no writing on the sides revealed nothing as to its contents. Curiosity’s got me now! So I rip open the top. Then this happened:

(And I have to live with the fact that’s on film for eternity.)

It wasn’t an official store bought doll. It was BETTER! Made just for me. Awwwww.

I named her Mary Ellen after my aunt who made her. I still have her, too, on a shelf with other special keepsakes from my younger years. I did eventually get my official doll, too (his name is Reggie Wally). The way I got him and how my dad struggled to get him is for another time (and hopefully the book I’m writing). I still have him, too. He sits near his handmade sister, two reminders of what love looks like in material form.

I hope your holiday and winter season is filled with reminders of love! … … … …

*dabs eyes… crying from laughter* My ugly cry still looks like that. My hair, thankfully, does not. If you’re celebrating today/tomorrow, I hope you get the chance to cry ugly tears of joy. Or at least eat a bunch of cookies. My faves are the teeny ones shaped like Christmas trees. Mmmmmm. Merry, merry, peeps!

Time for a Holiday Hiatus! I’ll be back to blogging next year! Oh, don’t fret. That’s just a week away! See you again on Tuesday, January 5!